


bad thoughts.

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Morning Glory (2010)
Genre: Age Difference, Cute, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: It's a bad day - bad thoughts.Lisa helps.





	bad thoughts.

It’s a bad day.

It’s raining outside, and it’s a rare day off work. It’s a rainy day, and the rain clings right to the windows, running down the glass in veins of water. Jerry glances down at his left hand, which is loosely gripping his coffee mug: three vertical lines scar the centre of his wrist, and underneath the pink indents in the flesh, he can see the blue lines of the veins under the skin. 

It’s always a bad day, when Jerry’s gaze keeps flitting back toward his wrist. It’s like he can’t focus on anything else, like he can’t stare into space or look at anything.

It’s magnetic, almost.

His eyes are drawn back to his arm, as if there’s some invisible force he doesn’t know about, that he can’t say or pick out, and he keeps staring at it. Staring at the three even lines and the pump of the blood underneath. 

_(”What are they from?” Lisa asks. She’s straddling Jerry’s lap on the couch, and she is stroking absent lines up and down the length of his arms, but now she’s looking at his left wrist. The question is completely innocent: there’s no comprehension in her face, no understanding._

_“When I was in college,” Jerry says, very quietly, his tone measured, “I tried to slit my wrists.” Lisa frowns, tilting her head slightly to the side.  
_

_“What, like– A blood-letting thing? I’ve heard people do that, sometimes, but barely anyone does that anymore, barely…”  
_

_“No, sweetheart,” Jerry murmurs, gently patting her bare thigh with his other palm. “I, uh, I meant to kill myself.” Lisa stares down at him, and immediately, her beautiful eyes start filling with tears, and Jerry gently squeezes her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and brushing his lips over the knuckles.  
_

_“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No.”  
_

_“It’s okay,” Jerry murmurs against her hand. “It’s okay, honey, I’m right here: I’m okay.”  
_

_“Don’t you **ever** ,” Lisa whispers, shaking her head even more emphatically as the tears roll down his cheeks and drip down onto her chemise. “Don’t you– Don’t! Don’t!”_

_“I won’t, honey,” Jerry promises, squeezing her hand. “I won’t ever. Never have tried, since then.”  
_

_“Have you wanted to?” Lisa asks. There’s a short pause, and Jerry kisses her knuckles again._

_“I won’t,” he promises, and when she cries, this time, he sits up to let her do it, squeezes her tightly against his chest and lets her sob into his neck, grip onto his sweater as he holds her tightly. “I won’t, Lise, I won’t.”)  
_

“Jerry?” Lisa calls, and Jerry glances up as she comes in, winding her arm around Jerry’s neck, leaning in and dragging her mouth over the top of his head, her lips over his hair. She’s sweaty from her workout, and she’s just walked in from the gym - she lets herself into Jerry’s house, most days. She has her own key. “What’re you doing?”

“Thinking.”

“Too much thinking rots your brain,” Lisa murmurs. “I’ll bench you, if you don’t quit it.”

“You can’t bench me,” Jerry murmurs, feeling a little smile tug at his lips.

“I  _can_. I can bench 200 - how many pounds do you weigh? 170? 180?” Lisa leans in, kissing the side of his neck, and Jerry closes his eyes, leaning back and against her. She’s so warm, so  _warm_ … “Come on, get up.” 

Reluctantly, Jerry stands from the chair, ignoring the slight ache in his hips from having slumped there for too long, and he feels Lisa’s hand behind his knees, another behind his back, and before he can even argue, she’s  _sweeping_  him–

“Oof!” Jerry gasps out, falling back in her arms, and despite how  _lanky_  he is, how too-long and too-tall he is compared to her smaller frame, she has him bridal style in her arms, staring up at her with awe splitting his lips apart and widening his eyes. 

“See?” Lisa asks, tone smug. “If I can do  _this_ … I can bench you easy.” 

“Put me down, honey,” Jerry murmurs, wondering how such a  _petite_  girl can be such a strong woman, and Lisa smiles at him, but she sets him upright, sets him upright and then winds her arms around his waist, presses her cheek against his chest. He puts his chin onto her head, squeezing her close to him, and his gaze flits downward, toward his own wrist, where it’s hidden against Lisa’s back. 

“Bad day?” Lisa asks softly.

“Mmm.”

“Let’s go for a walk,” Lisa says. 

Jerry doesn’t want to walk. Jerry wants to lie down, maybe, lie down on the couch under a blanket and listen to something on the radio or watch something mindless on TV, but she’s right - he knows she’s right. They should go for a walk, they  _should_ … 

“We can read to each other afterward,” Jerry murmurs softly, and it’s stupid nonsense - he couldn’t concentrate on a line of text if he tried, right now, and even with the walk, he probably wouldn’t be able to focus. He won’t be reading a thing.

But Lisa will. 

Lisa will read to him from whatever junk theory she’s digesting at the moment - prayers to angels, or past lives, or alien abduction; maybe she’ll read him the autobiography of some reality star Jerry doesn’t care about.

It doesn’t matter. He just wants something to focus on, just wants to listen to her voice, let whatever stupid thing she’s focused on wash over him - he wishes he could drown in it.

Bad thoughts.

Bad day.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Lisa says.

“Okay,” Jerry murmurs, and he lets her lead him by the hand back toward the stairs. 


End file.
